Revelation
by maroongrad
Summary: Yet another Abraham and Alucard story, with yet another slightly different take on it ;- Dracula isn't as vicious as Abraham thought...and more human.
1. Chapter 1

(Yes, I'll be continuing with To Possess, but it may be a week or so more. Be content, I am NOT letting it die. :) But this short scene showed up, and I put a couple others over on AFF for now. Hope you enjoy!)

Revelation

Red eyes blazed with absolute rage and ineffective snaps darted at the men gathered around the beast. Were the vampire not so tightly restrained, those snaps would result in severe injuries, ripping through muscle and bone like so much tissue. But Dracula was weak, starved and injured from the initial capture, separated from earth and coffin, and those thick leather straps immobilized him. Not entirely, for the vampire was allowed some minor motion as he flexed and struggled under them.

The cheek was pressed against the thin cushion, provided after the beast had rolled about and bled, cheek torn against the steel table earlier that night. A thick band wrapped about his head, steel D rings sewn to it with metal threads and thick hemp, and those D rings snapped to sturdy metal clasps. Neck, shoulders, chest, arms, legs...there was nearly as much leather covering the beast as there was skin visible. Even so, as a fresh shudder raced down the vampire's body, muscles knotting and straining, every man present took an unconcious step back, bodies tensing.

Three times tonight, the vampire had begun to break free, had been forced down and burned with crucifixes and Host until restraints were repaired, new ones added. Silent from the large metal gag, the vampire's eye could only roll at them and glare as Dracula communicated his rage and fury in the only way now left to him. Even his snaps were muffled, though the jaw muscles worked and clenched furiously. The metal gag, a large copper bit forced between his jaws, was not there to silence the beast, but to prevent those fangs from closing in a victim's flesh.

The silence, the reduction in volume of the beasts snarls and growls, was mere bonus, the infuriated clicks of sharp teeth on the softer copper punctuating each snap instead of the clashing of the impressive dentition on itself. Watching the beast's ineffective struggles to escape, it's muffled voice, the neutralizing of its greatest weapon, Abraham found himself smiling slightly with excusable pride. Even now, head twisted to the side, the vampire was unwillingly showing his neck to his new human master.

Abraham had done so merely to allow access to the great vein in the beast's neck. Like the copper bit, the additional effectiveness was mere happenstance. But the beast was muted and humbled as well as restrained and prepared, and after several minutes of ineffectual struggling, Abraham was pleased to conclude that the restraints were successful. Remaining by the head of the beast, he dismissed the watchful men to begin collecting the items needed for the night's work and to remove the detritus of snaps and straps and remaining unused restraints.

Unaware of what he was truly doing, simply proud of his achievement and relaxing somewhat from the very tense previous hour of repeated and failed attempts to restrain the very dangerous monster, he began idly petting the creature. The hair, though gray and filthy, was unmistakably soft and silky. He truly was not thinking of what he was doing, merely occupying his hands as he turned over the plans for the monster in his mind. It took a minute or more before he realized that the beast had stopped its attempts to snarl and struggle.

He glanced down, and found his gaze caught by the red orb of the vampire. No longer blazing with fury, it had calmed, the beast watching him...warily? He was uncertain, the vampire's expression was so...odd. He'd seen it gloat, seen it angry, infuriated...and as he puzzled over the odd expression, his hand ceased its steady and light contact. Within moments, the vampire's fury had resurfaced and it bucked weakly and ineffectively against its restraints, snarling viciously though the gag muffled the sound and the straps stopped his movements.

Puzzled, thoughts swirling a bit, curious at what he might have seen, Abraham moved to begin...petting...the beast again, with deliberation this time. As he reached down, the eye rolled to watch his hand, the vampire's neck curling and straining as it sought to move from under his hand. Yes...it HAD flinched as he touched it, continuing to glare. From the hairs that began at the forehead, over the crown of the head, continuing down the back until the leather strap stopped him, Abraham repeated his movements. And...the vampire quieted again.

With the rage eased, the beast's fear was plain to see. Fear? Dracula was frightened? The lean body shuddered, but this time it wasn't a contortion to attempt escape, but...fear.

Abraham was dumbfounded.

He'd expected only anger, rage, had hoped for at best a resignation, that the beast would resign itself to biding its time until it could rebel more effectively. Fear? That was so...utterly unexpected. Though the eye was an inhuman scarlet, the fear and near-panic were there and undeniably human.

This was not what he had expected, not at all.

Wondering, he continued his gentle touches, watching as the near-panic slowly faded more and more. In a low voice, Abraham indicated to the other men to stop their preparations, and move into the adjoining room, and wait. As they removed themselves, the red eye ceased darting about at the movements of the men, and the muscles of the beast's face relaxed further. The vampire had found them threatening?

Abraham considered the vampire's behavior in this new light. Not furious that he was so restrained, but...perhaps...terrified? A cat was at its fiercest when most frightened. The vampire had never screamed, moaned, given voice to any indications of fear as a human would have. It had simply attacked, again and again, snarled and growled and lunged and fought them with every fiber of its being. Van Helsing had never once thought that Dracula was anything but angry at the situation in which it had found itself.

Minutes ticked by, as he continued to gently soothe the beast, observing with a clinical and scientific eye, wondering with a human heart at the beast. With no one around but him, surrounded only by quiet, with Abraham's gentle touch on his head, the beast wilted further. The fear faded, and the deep fatigue it had concealed became visible. Rage had covered fear, fear had covered exhaustion. As rage eased and fear relaxed with the continued calm and peace, exhaustion took over the beast. The wary eye still watched each movement of the hand, but the lid over it drooped, the skin around the mouth sagged where it did not stretch over the bit, the tension that had vibrated the monster's body slowly eased away, leaving it limp.

Abraham's hand moved from the shaggy gray top of the head, scratching behind the ear where it emerged from under the strap, then to the nape of the neck and above, where skin showed between restraints. There was silence in the room except for the dry rustling and scritching as he gently scratched the dirt-and-blood-crusted skin and hair of the vampire. Rapid blinks showed the vampire fighting fatigue to stay awake, and failing.

Dracula was fightint to stay awake...and losing. The situation had changed dramatically. No one was there to threaten him, the men that had loomed over him now absent. Abraham, instead of hurting him or taunting him, was providing a gentle and utterly non-threatening, pleasant bit of contact. Instead of tense, sometimes frantic men shouting directions and warnings to each other and forcing the beast back with holy items, burning and rending his flesh...he was surrounded by the quiet of an empty room. And he hadn't missed the simple thoughtfulness of something as minor as providing a small pad under his face when the straps had ground his cheek against the metal.

He'd expected torture, that Van Helsing would be gloating over the hunter's prey as the man began to work on him. As a human, he'd been intimately familiar with all the means of torture available, had received and dealt such. Strapped to a table clearly meant to hold down a body, surrounded by the dark and cold stones of a secluded room under a home, men gathered about him, treating him as an object...he'd been terrified. Refusing to be frightened, he'd forced the anger into fury, using the strength of rage to nearly break free again and again. Finally restrained, he'd thought they'd begin on him, had seen them removing leftover straps and bits and bringing mysterious trays...

And then, instead, the gentle pat on his head. Abraham's face, instead of a vicious glee, had looked...tired. Preoccupied. And the touch, unconcious though it was, had been gentle. Now, while not comfortable, he was not twisted in any uncomfortable way, simply... restrained. Abraham continued his gentle touches, fingers soothing away itches Dracula had not been aware of, constant and gentle and entirely unthreatening. Fear left him, leaving only fatigue and exhaustion behind.

If they were going to torture him...they wouldn't have made him comfortable. Abraham would be pinching and twisting, not gently soothing. And as the fear died, fatigue rose in him. But he didn't want to be on the table, most of his form concealed under those metal claps and thick leather bands. He was lonely, so lonely...vampires had been human, he had been human, and it had been so many weeks, months, since he'd felt another human under his touch. The need for simple contact was stirring in him; he was lonely, unbearably lonely, and for the first time in far too long, there was a human there that was not acting as a foe. And his head itched. Not coherent, too fogged with fatigue to truly think, he was aware mostly that he did not want to be on the table, he was lonely, and there was a person there.

If he'd been attempting to escape, the wards would have forced him back down. All his prior attempts to shift his form had failed miserably as a result. But now...he wasn't thinking of escape. He was simply too tired. He needed the security Abraham offered, needed rest so badly, and had an abominable itched under the top of his ear that he wanted those talented fingers to soothe. And the lean form melted into fog, reforming on the floor into a free vampire leaning against the legs of a shocked and frightened Abraham.

Eyes half-closed, the blind face nuzzled at the man's legs. The warmth of a human beat at his cheeks, the rough fabric of pants rasped at his face. He could feel the heartbeat, hear blood as it rushed through the veins in a pleasant susurration, smell and taste Abraham's scent on the air...and the knot of loneliness eased. He was too tired to be afraid, to think...it had been anger and fear keeping him in motion and with those gone...he could only slump against the man.

Abraham's initial reaction when the vampire had vanished from the table had been to shout in fear, but shock and, he had to admit, terror, had frozen his vocal cords. And the vampire had appeared again immediately...at his feet.

Not biting, nor tearing, nor beating at him...but slumped in utter and unmistakeable exhaustion. A brief nuzzle of the face, and he took the request for what it was, hand moving numbly and clumsily to resume moving through the vampire's hair, this time unbothered by the straps and restraints. A cool gust of air as the beast sighed against him...and then stopped moving entirely.

Crouching down, he settled the vampire carefully on the floor, motioning in the shocked men that had watched the vampire vanish and reappear. Dracula stirred only briefly, a cold pale hand reaching out to rest across his foot, then sleeping again.

"Open the doors between here and the coffin, and remove the lid from his coffin." Abraham's whispered voice drew confused glances, but he was adamant.

The vampire could have killed him, killed all of them, exhausted though it was. Instead, it had fallen asleep. The room with the coffin was warded and sealed; the vampire wouldn't be able to escape it.

And Abraham was fascinated. What would the vampire do when it was awake? Forget harvesting vials of blood to test, forget palpating and diagramming the beast's build and the positions of its tendons. They could study that at any time, after all.

Now...what was the beast thinking? Carefully scooping him up, head cradled against the shoulder, Abraham carried the vampire to his coffin. He was only somewhat surprised when the head nuzzled into his shoulder, the vampire ignoring the close proximity of a neck. He'd taken an awful risk in doing this...but...Dracula was not what he had thought. And if the beast had trusted him enough, needed him enough, that it would fall asleep at his feet...he'd trust it to carry it the few seconds through the basement.

Dracula didn't stir as he settled the monster into its coffin. It might be a few days before the vampire woke...and he had a lot of thinking to do in the meantime. It was with a very distracted expression that he dismissed the other men for the night, and returned to his own rooms. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a slow waking, his mind vaguely aware that this was not normal. No, usually he woke quickly and immediately; this odd sensation of confusion and disorientation and lingering fatigue was not how he usually woke. And aware that something was wrong, somehow, Dracula remained still and unmoving as he mind woke further.

It didn't take long before the memory of his defeat rose, then the memories of his captivity. He'd been so hungry, so exhausted, isolated for day after day, the time stretching into weeks as he lay alone in his cell. Van Helsing had been no fool, had left him to starve, removed his coffin, his soil, weakened him. And when he could no longer fight his chains with any force, the man had come in to the room with him, a look of satisfaction on Van Helsing's face at his condition.

He'd lunged off the floor, springing at the man, to find his muscles stiffened and weak, the chains heavy, and the attack had been off-balanced and weakened. Van Helsing had been the first face he'd seen in uncounted days, alone in the dark, and the man hadn't even spoken to him, but left, smiling, and the door locking behind.

And then he'd wakened that day as they moved him from his dark cell to that painfully, brilliantly well-lit room and strapped him to the table. He was well aware they'd simply waited until he was too weak to fight them before beginning the next stage of their abuse, and had fought desperately. Once they had him helpless, they'd begin to torture him. All it would take was a single bite on a single person, a free arm to grasp a weapon, a leg to kick about him and slash at them with taloned toes, but he could achieve none of that.

And they'd finished strapping him down...he remembered that. Feigning sleep or not, he could not stop the shiver that coursed through his body at that memory. But the next memory surprised him.

Van Helsing had not abused him...no. Sorting through the memories, mind no longer sluggish, he considered what had happened. It was during the day, his normal time of sleep, and he'd been so long out of his coffin and far from his soil that he'd been near delirious from exhaustion. He'd released himself from his bonds, something he hadn't managed to achieve in more than a month of trying. They weren't going to torture him, no...the loss of fear had ennervated him. And Abraham had been there, a warm body, a human touch, after so many weeks of nothing but dark empty silence and chill floors.

He remembered moving to sit by Abraham, far too tired, too dizzy with fatigue, to consider standing near him. He'd thrown himself on the man's mercy...and there had been mercy.

He was hungry, starved, still. Yet the comfort of his long deep sleep and the pleasant lassitude of his body told him that he'd passed that time in his coffin, surrounded by his soil, and rested there still. In the safe, dark confines of his home, red eyes opened, staring up at the coffin lid as he thought.

He'd had his rest. He needed food, and much as he hated to admit it, he needed companionship. He'd never been so incredibly lonely; always, always, always, he'd had a fledgling or a companion or even several filling his existence. Conversations, hunting partners, occasionally bed partners, dances and debates and the rare great flaming row of an argument, he had not been alone in...centuries.

The long cold time in the silent dark had drained him emotionally to an extent that he could barely comprehend, would never have believed. It had been compounded by the certain knowledge that his family, all three of them, had perished, that his newest child had died within days of her waking, and that he was so thoroughly bereft and alone.

Abraham was only a human, but as his memories finished with the man's soft touch on his chair, the way the man had gently cradled his body while carrying it to rest in his coffin, he wanted to see that human so very badly.

It was with difficulty that his numb, relaxed, weakened arms shifted the lid above him, but he'd had his rest. And starved he might be for sustenance, but his very self was more starved for companionship, company of any kind.

The door to the cell was a score of feet away, the distance lined with large boxes of his soil, stacked haphazardly to the right and left. Hopeful, vaguely fearful of the men changing their minds and deciding to harm him anyways, but mostly deeply anticipating the contact with them, Dracula staggered and stumbled as he wove his way to the door.

Abraham, he'd find Abraham again.

The long white hand reached up, slipping about, thrusting and missing until it managed to awkwardly grasp the handle. It took another minute for Dracula to realize that the door was not moving because it had been locked or barred from the other side, not because he was too weak to pull it or unable to grip the handle firmly.

Frowning, he sank to the top of the box nearest the door. He'd wait. It was comfortable to sit here, his home earth under him, leaning on the wall, watching the door and listening. Abraham would have to come and see him at some point; the man hadn't restored his soil and resting place, soothed him and carried him so gently only to ignore him.

But his internal time sense told him that it had been more than four days since this had happened, four days of oblivion, sleeping and recuperating and resting deeply for the first time since his capture. Abraham would come to inspect him, must come...he must only be patient.

Hunger gnawed at him, and loneliness prompted the occasional and unconcious, barely-audible moan from his throat, but mostly, he sat with the patience of centuries, wine-red eyes watching the door unblinking, shoulder slumped casually against the wall, mind wandering from memory to his current captivity and back again.

Time ticked by. 


	3. Chapter 3

x I just wanted to get some more put into this story. I tend to write when I get reviews, so if you're looking at the older stories, and drop a review, it gets my butt in front of the computer and the gears moving and those stories updated. :) "Awaken" is definitively done, but the others? Fair game for the occasional new chapter. And suggestions and ideas are always welcome! x

Ch 3

It was late morning when Abraham went down to check on the vampire. He'd visited each evening at sunset, and then again before finding his own bed, to discover the vampire still soundly sleeping. It was a bit discomfiting; with the pale color and smooth skin and utter lack of motion, the beast truly did look dead. Their ability to look so very corpse-like was one of the characteristics that made them such effective predators. Place that coffin and corpse in a cemetary, and it would look like a funeral had been held earlier that day.

Opening the door, with its tracing of runes and bindings and the enormous crucifix, he expected to see a closed coffin. A few steps in, and he realized that the coffin lid was moved; Dracula had been awake! Whirling, heart in his throat, he spun about. The vampire could be awake during the day, was it? And if so...would it continue in its forebearance?

By the door, it was by the door. Heart slowing from its panicked racing, Abraham looked more closely at his prisoner. Slumped and sleeping, and instead of the calm peace normally seen on the face of a sleeping vampire, Dracula looked miserable. Clearly not awake, but the emotions on his face when he fell asleep remained, and the vampire had not been happy, the brow slightly furrowed and the corners of the mouth turned downwards. From his position, the vampire had been waiting by the door until dawn sent him into slumber.

Guilt, again. He'd last checked on the monster slightly before midnight, then gone to bed. At some point in the next six or so hours, the vampire had woken, and spent the night awake and alone and hungry. Then again, he had no guarantee the vampire hadn't been awake and angry and attempting to hunt!

There was no need to leave the creature out of its coffin for the full day, though he wondered why Dracula had not returned to it as dawn approached. Stooping, he easily lifted the slight and starved form, then returned it to the coffin. He'd be back this evening, before nightfall. As the vampire would be awake, he'd bring reinforcements, just in case the monster was not as quiet and unthreatening as it had been. Dracula had been exhausted and frightened before, but he'd had four days to rest, and Abraham was not willing to bet his life that the vampire remained frightened and docile!

It was a very long day, having to wait until nightfall to see what the vampire would be like.

x x x x

The vampire had been sealed in the room for five days, and it was a tense and nervous group of men that opened the door that evening. They were all armed and armored as well as could be against what they expected to see, nervous and on-edge; the sharp cracking report of a hinge as the door opened caused every heart to skip a beat. Safe behind a silver barrier on the floor, they peered into the room.

Dracula was sitting in the coffin...peering back at them, face unreadable. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Dracula." He was hesitant, but not about to let the vampire see how hesitant he was. The creature was proud, every line of his body showing how it was help firmly erect, poised, and he wondered, somewhat, how to interact with him. The vampire gave a regal nod, and Abraham found himself bridling inside. This was no king receiving a supplicant, though Dracula had the nerve to nod and "allow" him to continue!

Keeping the frown from his face, he went on.

"You're a prisoner here, that has not changed. However, your behavior is not what I had predicted, and as a result, your coffin and soil have been returned to you. Should you continue to behave well, I have every intention of continuing to supply you with them." Still expressionless, the vampire merely watched him.

"I do intend to experiment, but no longer so much ON you as WITH you." Still no response from the vampire, still only a blank expression and a steady gaze. And now on to the most important part, the one that he hoped with all his heart that the vampire would agree to. This could not be done with an unwilling vampire; he had to willingly enter into such an agreement. "What I would like to do is to create a contract with you. In return for your obedience, you will not suffer unduly, will be fed, protected, and retain access to both coffin and earth. In return for my protection of you during the daylight hours, and my restraint during my studies, you will be obedient and cooperative." That was a carrot, and now a stick. "Should you decide not to cooperate willingly, we can certainly return to starving you, strapping you to a table, and only returning you to your coffin when absolutely necessary. I would prefer not to do so. I would prefer to have you awake, cooperative, and comfortable."

x

Dracula had been so pleased to see the door open, to see Abraham. He knew he should hate the man, but he couldn't. Much as he hunted humans because it was his nature, Abraham had killed vampires. The wolf could not hate the shepherd for defending his flock. The man hadn't been cruel about it, had done what was a necessity from the human viewpoint. Even so, Dracula would have hated him except that he needed contact so badly, needed to no longer be so isolated.

The men with him, he remembered clearly. Remembered their burning crucifixes, their subdued joy at subduing him, the fear and pleasure they took in hurting him. They had not impressed him with their intelligence, had not demonstrated great bravery and fortitude and strength of character in overcoming him. Instead, they'd simply tormented the monster that Abraham had caught.

His voice would be a broken whisper, his body palsied and infirm, visibly weak and helpless, and he would not appear so in front of them. Instead, he kept all emotion from his face, not wanting them to have any weakness to exploit; they were undeserving of anything but being a meal, only typical weak humans. Abraham was a lion surrounded by a pride of spoiled tabby housecats. And while he would bare his throat to the lion, he would never show weakness to the spineless fools beside the man.

And so while he listened to the man, and thought over what was being offered, he remained still and silent, unwilling to reveal any infirmity.

He had no doubt the man could force him down, force him to submit to whatever sort of "experimentation" Abraham wanted. He'd experienced that much already. Starved, deprived of coffin and soil? The man was willing to do that as well, willing and capable. But it wasn't what Abraham wanted.

What did he want? There was no threat in the man, only a calm confidence. Van Helsing wanted his willing cooperation. A contract? He somehow doubted it was at all like the contracts he had signed to obtain Harker's services, or to prepare his properties in Britain. Was the man alluding to a rather different contract, such as the one that had promised his soul to the Devil for the powers he now wielded?

What did Abraham intend, as the months and years went by? There was much he wished to ask, but the unwanted and unwelcome presence of the men huddled behind Abraham kept him silent. Even sitting up so proper and powerfully was draining what strength he still possessed; speaking would give away the game entirely. Time ticked by, Van Helsing blatantly waiting for an answer, Dracula reluctant to give it and reveal his weakness.

Abraham's heart sank a bit as he realized the vampire would not answer. Keeping the disappointment from his face, he drew back from the door.

"I'll give you time to think about this. In a few days, perhaps, you'll be more inclined to discuss the matter." Moving briskly, he pulled the lantern away, plunging the room into near-darkness and then pushing the door shut. Pausing, he listened, hoping for some response from the creature, not wanting to leave and to wait and wait for it to give him some sort of reply. But there was no response. Whether the creature was too startled to reply, too angry, or simply too proud to acknowledge an offer of servitude, he did not know. But he wouldn't be waiting in the basement on the beast's pleasure, either. 


	5. Chapter 5

*a round of sinus surgery and a sick family member plus a busy job have derailed a lot of my writing. It is ONLY on hiatus, I DO intend to finish all the stories that are currently mid-tale. I'm also looking at publishing a few of the ones that can be altered to not be a Hellsing fanfiction and putting them out as paperbacks. If you have an idea or a drawing for a good cover for Awaken Cold and Lonely, I'd love to give you credit as the artist and include it! So, if you like my writing, please consider contributing a drawing for the cover or buying whichever of the stories I put out. I'll update as I find out more. I hope that this chapter helps make up for the long lack of stories!*

Two days.

Two days of misery, hunger, loneliness, and a slow burning anger at the impudent pups that had interfered between himself and Abraham. But two days of knowing that Abraham did intend to return, and two days spent in the secure, warm, comforting confines of his coffin, surrounded by his earth. Too tired and weak to leave the coffin, he instead laid there, trying to push his thoughts into some sort of order while his deep exhaustion from the constant starvation distracted them and pulled them into circles.

He rather thought he might choose to work with Abraham. Perhaps. Looking at his other options...nothing seemed appealing. He had no interest in returning to Romania, not when an entire world beckoned to him. With the deaths of his wives, he was both deeply saddened and deeply relieved. There was no longer a tie, a responsibility, a reason to return. And London...there was so much here. So much humanity, so much noise, so much that was new to him. And new...new was a novelty to him. Steam ships and locomotives, gas lights and theaters, it was intriguing. He did not wish to leave London.

And he did not wish to be alone again. There were no prospects for a child in any of the women he'd encountered, not since Lucy. An adult vampire he was more likely to kill out of hand than to try and form any relationship with; all vampires were territorial, and he readily acknowledged he was more so than most.

But humans didn't trigger that response, and Abraham...interested him. The man was incredibly brave, resourceful, and kind. Not so perceptive as he'd hoped, though...and a slight snarl lifted the corner of his mouth, revealing a sharp and gleaming fang. Eating those men would be a delight after this. But Abraham...what did he mean? Science was a new concept, too. Alchemy was familiar, and black arts and magic and religious ceremonies, but the procedures and processes by which a steam locomotive was formed and those fantastically accurate little handguns, those were a mystery.

The man wanted to experiment on him. It could be something terrible, or it could be something interesting, that would catch his attention and spark interest, that would pull him out of his monotonous existence and inspire him. Such occurrences were rare. And yet, something new presented itself.

Abraham would be an acceptable companion of sorts, a man that he could respect and admit to himself, with no disgrace, that he'd been bested by. The plans Abraham had, unknown and intriguing, a new sort of scientific art to learn of. And England, too, with all its attractions. Yes, this might be worth giving up freedom for, to bargain for. Abraham would die, it would not be more than a few decades, and...this could fill those decades of his non-life quite adequately.

He'd been bored, dulled, grown complacent and shallow, his great mind stagnating until the challenge of traveling to England had arisen. He'd accomplished that, recalling skills and talents and learning, learning so much, so fast, had challenged his mind and his abilities and loved every moment of it.

And now he was in England.

What now?

Well...perhaps... Abraham.

If the man ever showed back up. Grumbling quietly, Dracula blinked tiredly up at the lid of his coffin. He was old, he'd long since learned patience, but that didn't mean he was going to be happy about waiting.

x x x

Abraham opened the door to the cell, cautiously armed and alert, men gathered behind him again, to find that this time there was no vampire sitting and waiting with regal condescension. Instead, the coffin remained closed, though the lid was slightly crooked. Odd, that the vampire wouldn't have shifted it about until it had closed.

Men following a few cautious steps behind, Abraham called out to his prisoner, then strode confidently to the coffin. "Dracula, I have returned. If you are unwilling to discuss terms tonight, I am willing to leave you for a few more days to consider this." It was either a threat or a bribe; he truly didn't know if the vampire enjoyed being left alone in the dark and quiet, or was angry at the perceived abandonment. Yet another mystery in this bundle of mysteries that was his unwilling guest! With a solid grasp, no hesitation, he lifted and twisted the lid to reveal the top half of the coffin and the head and torso of its occupant.

Dracula was watching him, mouth opened, words forming...and then the red eyes glanced over his shoulder and immediately hardened. The mouth snapped shut and a low growl rolled from the throat, barely audible to Abraham.

What had caused this sudden change? It was as though a switch had been flipped; the vampire's expression and attitude undergoing a complete and immediate reversal. Even now, the red eyes no longer watched him with interest, but instead leveled a cold and hard glare at the men standing beside him, peering over his shoulder at the beast. And muttering about the vampire, too...

The vampire that continued to glare at them and growl ever so quietly. Motionless, entirely uncooperative, entirely unresponsive to Abraham...

Ah.

Ridiculously obvious, now. Dracula was a prince of sorts, with all the prickly pride of the nobility only enhanced by his undead status...

"Gentlemen, please wait outside. I'll call immediately should I need you."

x x x

It had taken a few moments of arguing, as they were unwilling to leave him alone with the vampire. He'd ended up having to physically touch Dracula, his hand resting far too close to those sharp teeth, before they'd accept that the vampire was not likely to attack him.

He hadn't been entirely sure he'd be safe, himself. Vampires were a mystery, their behavior unhuman...but he hadn't detected any aggression at all. There had been fury, fear, exhaustion, and now frustration of sorts...but no threats to him. It had been a gamble, but necessary if he was to proceed with the vampire and move the men out. They were loyal and unwilling to place him at risk; good traits, but a right nuisance at this time!

And now, it was him and the vampire. Tired red eyes watched his own blue ones with speculation, and he suspected his reflected the same back.

"Have you considered my offer?"

"Yes." Faint, so faint...barely audible. Dracula was more drained and worn than he'd thought! Arrogant, too...yes, his behavior towards the men was understandable. Abraham began to feel the slightest bit of guilt towards not recognizing this two nights previously, but quickly quashed it. Dracula was arrogant and prideful; such sinful traits had caused him another two nights of hunger. It was not his own fault that his vampire had chosen pride over comfort and communication!

"Are you able to speak with me at this time?" If the vampire were truly as exhausted and weak as he appeared...

"Not truly." The voice was a ghost of a whisper, and the vampire looked both embarassed and chagrined by his weakness. The low volume, the delay before the answer, the utter lack of movement, no. He was not going to engage the vampire in any sort of complex conversation; Dracula simply wasn't capable.

x x x

It was embarassing to be so weak before the human, unable to lift or turn his head, barely able to force enough air to be audible. Not so very humbling, though; he was only so weak because Abraham was an exceptional man. The mortal had earned the power he held over a vampire, and Dracula could not begrudge him it. This was no weakling, no underling, but Abraham himself, and Dracula would do him the honor of not prevaricating on his condition.

It was a struggle to stay focused, to watch, when all he wanted was to let his lids sag to half-mast and let his mind wander. Even with the struggle, he missed what Abraham said, missed why the man suddenly vanished from his vision. Annoyed with himself, he relaxed, waiting a few moments, hearing shuffling and sounds that indicated that he was not alone nor abandoned at all. What was the man doing?

A few minutes later, he had his answer, gulping and sucking down the bowl of cold human blood Abraham had presented to him.

And a few minutes after that, he'd given his own answer to Abraham. The man would not abuse him, not force him, if he'd serve willingly. Food, shelter...and, to the man's obvious surprise, an insistence on entertainment and education. There was so much to learn here, so much to challenge him. It was well worth servitude fi the servitude enriched his existence. The man seemed entirely startled by this demand, but it was the key to his servitude.

It was not yet midnight when he'd sworn his servitude and contracted himself to Abraham Van Helsing. Fed again, including hot blood fresh from Abraham's arm, not fully recovered but stronger, and...humored. Abraham had been quick to grant him basic decorations for his room, simple furnishings. He'd only asked to see if the man would do it.

His attempt at manipulation had not been begrudged, and he was bemused as a cheerful Abraham brought him a candleabra, table, rug, and a few other items to place about his room.

And a book. An introductory text on mathematics and energy transfers. A quick glance had included words such as force and momentum and a puzzling and bewildering array of symbols and letters and bizarre mathematics.

He was intrigued. And fully lost and confused, another novel sensation. Many, many more books and lessons awaited him.

The future held promise. 


End file.
